Pinch Me
by Montanasky4
Summary: Bitterblue's Wedding. Refer to my story: A Graced Life.


I collapse into the linens that Helda has turned down for me. Despite my level of exhaustion, I cannot relax into sleep. Tomorrow is my wedding day. For sometime, marriage was something I avoided, not because I disagreed with it but because I did not want to marry for politics. I want to marry for love.

I found love on more than one occasion, but the man that I will meet in the great hall of my castle was the last one I expected to love me in return. After all, he was right under my nose the whole time. I've known him for the better part of a decade, but it wasn't until a few years ago that I really got to know the real Giddon. Although there is a considerable gap between our ages, Giddon became a person I confided in. Previously, I left my true thoughts to be shared with both Katsa and Po, but their commitments to the Council often kept them away. I won't say that I was drawn to Giddon out of loneliness, it was a matter of timing.

Several years back Giddon had been stripped of his titles by the king of the Middluns, King Randa. Left homeless and penniless, I offered Giddon sanctuary and eventually a title of his own in Monsea. Although he was reluctant, he accepted, taking the position as one of my personal advisers as well. And I didn't mind the extra time I would get to spend with him. Giddon's presence, at least then, helped alleviate the loneliness I felt while the others were gone.

If you know Katsa, then you know she never stays in a place for too long, constantly moving from one place to another, saving lives and causing trouble all the while; and where Katsa goes, usually Po is not far behind. I was fortunate to spend a few months with Po while Katsa was on a mission to another kingdom I would eventually come to learn of its existence. While Po was off on a mission of his own in Estill, I was left to my own devices.

When I was eighteen years old, having been queen of Monsea for nearly a decade, I was still trying to pick up the pieces left behind by my father, the late King Leck. Little was known, especially by myself, about my father and his rule, his grace having compromised not only the records but also my people. As I struggled to learn truths, I found that the only way I could get a true sense for my own people was to be one of them. It started with me sneaking out of the castle at night, disguised in boy clothes and a cloak, to hear the local tales. During my excursions I encountered a pair of thieves. They weren't your average thieves, these two, by the names Teddy and Saf, only stole what had previously been stolen by my father. Teddy has always been as kind as he is smart, while Saf, remains as spontaneous as he is unrestrained.

From that day, I should have known that Sapphire Birch was trouble. I can't put a finger on exactly what drew me to Saf, whether it was his spontaneity, his charisma, or his persistence. At some point, maybe while we sat on the rooftop, I had an inclination that he was going to be my first love, however, not my last. I don't regret it though, what I shared with Saf, particularly what happened between us in the drawbridge tower, remains a fond memory in my heart. The reason that Saf is not the man I will meet tomorrow to join in marriage, is not because he was born a commoner, or even the fact that he was raised in Lienid, despite his Monsean birth. Saf, for as long as I've known him, has always been a free-spirit.

Despite the fact that he had seemed rather insistent on joining the Dellians along with Skye, to learn about our neighbors, I did not think that he would stay away for as long as he did. Saf kept his promise though and through his grace I received many happy dreams as well as his insight into Dellian culture. On the rare occurrence that he did return to Monsea, our affairs were always kept short. I might have been content to remain his paramour, but had I not on one occasion asked him to be more, we might still be. That was the last I saw of Sapphire, and the end of his promise of dreams.

It would be untruthful for me to say that I focused solely on my queenly duties thereafter. Although I continued the rebuilding and running of Monsea and actively contributed to the Council, I also enjoyed being a young woman. I was not careless in any way in choosing my relationships, however, neither was I constricted. And I suppose that is why my feelings for Giddon had caught me so off guard.

One morning, following a meeting with my advisers, Giddon and I were taking a stroll through my gardens. By this time he had grown to be my most trusted confidant; we shared everything with each other. There had been several occasions over the years when Giddon would lay a gentle hand upon my cheek, or I would take his hand in mine as we walked. Such gestures had grown so common that while coming to a stop in the garden Giddon's fingers stroked my cheek, I thought nothing of it. It was when his lips descended upon mine that I realized just how much I'd been awaiting such an event to occur. I surprised myself with how much vigor my own lips responded to his.

We kept our newly found relationship a secret for as long as we could. When it became too obvious to both Helda and to her spies, we outed our feelings. Not long after that, Giddon asked me for my hand. I was surprised by the speed at which the preparations were set in motion, especially since I had not had the opportunity to confess my feelings to either Katsa or Po, whom other than Giddon, remained closest in my inner circle.

Now everyone invited has arrived for the wedding. Only hours ago I was finally able to express in person my relationship with Giddon to Katsa and Po. I did not have any reservations then, but as I lie in my bed in my chambers, I am restless with the thoughts of my impending marriage and of a graceling with one reddish-purple eye and one blueish-purple. I'm a despicable person, thinking of another man on the eve of my wedding. I do my best to convince myself that I only think of _him_ because we never had closure. As if on cue, I hear a peculiar sound, _ping ping_ , at my window.

I sit up. Looking at the window, curtains drawn, I see only darkness through them. I'm wondering if I am hearing things when I hear it again. _Ping ping ping_. I get up, never taking my eyes off the window, I part my lips to call in the guards when suddenly the window opens. I'm stunned into silence at the sight of Saf, hoisting himself in from a rope hanging from above. He approaches me as I am frozen in place. It's been over a year since I've laid eyes on him. He doesn't bow, instead he pulls me into his arms, tucking his face into my neck. My arms are locked at my sides and I still haven't found my voice. He smells like Saf, like sea water, ink, sweat, and something sweet. His arms are warm around me. I sink into his hold.

"Aren't you going to hug me back, Sparks?"

I'm reminded that I am not _his_ Sparks and I pull away from him. His eyebrows are drawn together in response to my sudden withdrawal. "How dare you."

He purses his lips while he seems to contemplate his answer. After a moment he shrugs his shoulders.

I bring my hand up to my other arm and pinch. Nothing happens. I pinch again, harder this time.

"What are you doing?" Saf demands in the infuriating way of his.

"Pinching myself so that I wake up. I must have fallen asleep."

He smiles. "I assure you," he bows, "Lady Queen, this is no dream."

I shake my head. "What are you doing here, Sapphire Birch?"

He frowns as he stands up straight. "This wasn't the reunion I hoped for."

"And what is it you hoped for, that I'd accept you with open arms? You've been gone for nearly two years, Saf, without a word." I don't say 'without a dream'.

"I had some things to take care of."

"That's how it always is with you. I wonder, had I not asked you to settle down, would you have kept coming back and crawling in my bed?" I don't know what is compelling me to say this, but at the sight of Saf, all of those frustrations and feelings come rushing back.

Saf says nothing in response, instead he tries to take me into his arms and I almost let him. I turn away from him. "Bitterblue," he says my name. There has always been an intimacy with how he calls me Sparks and such disdain with which he calls me Lady Queen. On the rare occasion he used my real name, it reached a part of me, deep inside, a place where I kept my feelings for him locked away. Despite everything, it seems to have the same effect now.

His arms snake around me from behind and this time I do not fight them. The feel of his body is so familiar to me, it's almost like a scar; something you're not born with but you acquire over time and it becomes a part of you. A single tear escapes from my left eye, and somehow he must sense it, because he turns me around and kisses it away. "I wish you wouldn't do that," I manage to say as his lips plant a feather-light kiss on the corner of my mouth. His lips are as soft as I remember and he kisses me with the same angst from the years past. As his tongue parts my lips, a chill goes through my body and I'm reminded of Giddon. My body stiffens immediately and I have just enough strength to push Saf away. "No. You don't get to just come back here and act like nothing's changed."

"I love you," he says.

"Surely you're not here on coincidence. Knowing you, you didn't just arrive. I doubt you don't know what tomorrow is."

Saf lowers his gaze. He reminds me of a child who knows his or her own guilt and is prepared for a scolding. I won't give him the satisfaction; for that is exactly what he wants, to get a rise out of me. When he looks up at me, there's a look of renewed will on his face. "You can't marry him, Sparks.

I shake my head. "I'm not Sparks. I am marrying Giddon tomorrow and there is nothing you can do to stop me." He flinches at Giddon's name.

I expect him to make some remark about Giddon but he doesn't.

He reaches for my hand, I pull it back but he is faster and manages to take hold of it. "I've changed in the last two years, Bitterblue. I'm not the same as I was when we first met." Somehow, just looking at him, I see it. My eyes slide over him in assessment. He carries himself differently. Saf has always been proud, but there is a set in his shoulders now that oozes confidence. His physical attributes have changed too. He's taller and more broad. His hair is well kept, not the wild mop of sun-kissed hair I remember. His jaw is also more prominent, the planes and angles of his face more apparent. He speaks exactly what my mind has concluded. "I'm not the boy you knew, I'm a man."

I shake my head. "Even so, your maturity doesn't change my mind." My words notwithstanding, he must know he has an in because his arms reel me in without fight.

My head is resting against his chest. As much as I don't want to let myself, I listen to the beating of his heart. It calms me. There is a war within my heart. My mind starts to imagine how a life with Saf would be if in fact I married him instead of Giddon, but Saf is right, he is no longer the same Saf I once knew, therefore any image I build in my mind is inaccurate. I am faced with a totally unpredictable future. Tears are streaming from my eyes. Saf's hand comes to my chin, tilting it up so that our lips are only inches apart. I want to kiss him, I want his arms to never let me go again. His lips are coming closer and closer. A whirlwind of emotions rage inside me, only one word manages to escape through my lips. "Please."

Saf stops all movement and stares at me. His eyes wide, slide over the tears running down my cheeks, gently his fingers wipe them away. He meets my eyes again and holds them with his gaze. Slowly his arms release me and I'm left feeling like an old wound has reopened.

He backs away and bows, not in a mocking manner he usually exhibits, instead it's courtly, almost regal. "I hope you can accept my deepest apology." He rises and turns away.

If he goes out that window, I'll likely never see him again. "Saf, wait."

He half turns; there's a smile on his face. "Look for me in your dreams," he says and then he's gone out the window. I'm left standing there, the breeze from the open window causing my nightgown to stir.

I stand here for a long time, long enough that I watch the sun rise through the open windows. The tears have stopped, but the feeling of loss remains.


End file.
